


and love too, will ruin us

by grimsgay



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sexual Content, disturbing imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-19 01:28:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22236379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimsgay/pseuds/grimsgay
Summary: So here’s the thing:Galo will not become your prey, because you refuse to give in to temptation.
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 7
Kudos: 70





	and love too, will ruin us

**Author's Note:**

> I have been slowly picking at this for awhile now... I hope people enjoy my weird experimental horny fic...
> 
> EDIT: Forgot to mention that the title is from Scheherazade by Richard Siken - his poetry owns my soul.

( i. )

Here’s the thing - and really- _here’s the thing:_ you’re not human. You have eyes and ears and a nose like one. You have hair, you style it and cut it when it gets too long. You have mannerisms and fashion, likes and dislikes, personality traits - though you aren’t aware of what any of these are. So you might seem human, and yeah, you pass as human most days- 

But here’s the thing; you’re not human.

It’s a reminder that you etch into your daydreams at all times - a secret mantra you clutch tightly to your heart. You're some kind of freak monster, or maybe a demon. The worst kind. But you’re definitely not human, because human beings don’t want to devour other humans whole.

And when Galo Thymos falls into your life, whatever shred of humanity you have left deserts you. You look at him and wonder what if would take for him to _break_. What would it take, to dig your claws into his skin so hard he screams, to bite him so firmly he knows only the feel of your fangs in his throat, or to sink into him - body and mind alike. You think if you were to have him you would be ruined on any other. 

Obsession is terrifying and enthralling all the same. 

But Galo is pure of heart. He’s a _good_ man and an even better citizen. Maybe even holy. To hold such concern and care over human lives - _all_ human lives - is admirable, and you don’t want to taint or destroy that. You’ve never been religious, you’re not even sure what that means, but something evil lurks under your skin, and you’re desperate to keep it at bay. 

So here’s the thing: 

Galo will not become your prey, because you refuse to give in to temptation. 

( ii. )

You know what it’s like to share flesh with creatures of another kind. Even before the Promare left, you felt it. Something. Beyond the desire to burn and to ravage. Beyond the fire. 

There was an instinctual call, a desire so great nothing could ever quell it, not even action. It’s just in your nature, you think. Some people are human, and that’s all fine and good, but you hold the wickedness of every sin humanity has ever created. Were you to feed it, it would only burn hotter. 

The Promare may be gone, but there are still demons lurking in your bloodstream, and they may not be entirely sentient, but you can _feel_ that stifling itch and it _consumes_ you. 

But you’re not going to do anything about it. 

Because Galo is your whole world now, and You’ll bite your tongue and let yourself implode before letting the world burn again. 

( iii. )

Galo sits on the couch, legs crossed, arms relaxed. Today is different from the norm because he’s wearing a turtleneck. It _is_ winter. It’s cold and you can’t blame Galo for covering up, especially not when your drowning in several layers yourself. The chill is biting, but you don’t notice it as much as you ought to. Not when he looks at you with _those_ eyes. Not when he tries to grasp your hand. Not when your veins erupt, and _nothing_ you do or say will dispel the hellfire.

“Lio,” he begins, when you flinch away. You feel the demons claw up and you wonder what it would be like if he grabbed you with the same force you want to grab him. “Why won’t you touch me? Don’t you want to?”

“I’m not nice,” you say, as if it makes any sense to either of you. 

_‘I want to devour and destroy you, I would tear you to shreds in an instant and leave nothing left. I burn everything I touch. You would be ashes in the wind.’_ This you don’t say, because you think he’d be frightened. You’d rather keep your distance than lose him altogether. 

Galo frowns, but reaches again. He grasps your arms tight and doesn’t release, despite your best struggles. The demons in your blood scream and howl and fight and _maybe_ you could give in. But you don’t want to devour Galo, and you don’t want to tear him to shreds. He’s special. You don’t want to scare him off.

“Lio,” he says, “My dearest Lio. Maybe I don’t want nice.” And _oh_ , how your blood _boils._

You lick your lips, eyes dilated, tongue heavy. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“So teach me, hot stuff.”

“If you want to stop, at any point, you tell me-“ You’re growling now - or maybe it’s the demons, you’re never sure anymore just where to draw the line. Galo looks at you with the heat of a thousand stars, and maybe, were you a better man, you might have held back. 

But as things stand, the tension is building. Your muscles are stretched taut and ready to snap. A simple _‘I won't,’_ from Galo is all it takes for the monster in you to jump.

You don’t make it to the bed.

( iv. )

The first time is against a wall, when there’s still strength in his legs to stand. You swallow his cock down like a starving animal and watch him come undone. You think you’d die without the contact - but Galo feeds you well.

The second time is on the floor. You take him roughly and you don’t let his mouth part from your own. He’s moaning and writhing beneath you but you smother his hymns because you’re not ready to hear that level of debauchery. 

You sink your teeth into Galo’s neck, deep enough to taste iron. You decide you like it, and you think  **_he_ ** likes it too. Especially when his hands are threaded in your hair and he says your name with a reverence that mortals once reserved for deities. He holds a worshiper's tongue; you hold the devil’s greed. Neither of you are perfect, but oh, isn’t he a pretty sight, spread out beneath you, hips rolling, cock dripping. 

His hands become knives across your back. His nails dig into you, etching praise and chaos alike into pale flesh. You wonder, _is this it, is this what it felt like, to be crucified?_ His nails dig deeper, you thrust harder, crying out into his mouth. You’re an unholy beast, burning with hellfire, and he’s a holy man, pinning you up, stripping you of your sin. 

It burns. _It burns…_

You flew into the sun, and you fell. Physical flames may be gone, but the fires never truly leave. You understand that now, better than anyone, more than even **_he_ **will ever know. Because this… 

_This_ is what it truly means to _burn._

( v. )

“Lio,” he says again, in the aftermath. You’re snuggled against him, and _oh isn’t that dangerous._ The calamity in your blood is satisfied for now, but you know it’s merely a matter of time. Twice wasn’t enough. It never will be. Galo doesn’t understand that. But he continues. “I think I liked that… a lot. I mean- can we-“

You sigh. “You want to do this again.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not nice,” you remind him as though it will change his answer.

But Galo simply laughs. “I told you already, I don’t want nice.”

You don’t understand - Galo is playing with a fire he’ll never put out, and dancing with the devil himself. If he keeps playing this game he’s going to burn alive, and you’re not sure you’ll always be able to bear the heat. You and Galo are very different people. You know this. Yet, he does not. 

But Galo’s fingers threaded through your own are the closest you’ve ever felt to heaven. You’re not a religious man, and you wouldn’t be holy even if you were, but you want this. Selfishness is a funny thing.

So instead of pushing him away like you should, you nod. You press your lips against his shoulder, and you mouth at his skin with a tenderness not yet shared.

“I’m going to hurt you, someday,” you murmur. 

“Give me your best shot, firebug.”

So you lay him down and let the demons feast. 


End file.
